


Anchor

by septic_dr_citrus



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Caretaking, Crime Fighting, Ego x Reader, Making Love, Making Out, Need, Overworking, Reader-Insert, Shower Sex, Showers, Smut, Superheroes, Surprises, Wet & Messy, fatigue, super strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septic_dr_citrus/pseuds/septic_dr_citrus
Summary: After a long, hard day of crime fighting, you're sure that all Jackieboy needs is a hot shower and some rest.Wrong. He needs you.
Relationships: Jackieboy Man/Reader
Kudos: 51





	Anchor

As soon as you see Jackie stumble in, you know. The hard set of his jaw, the slump in his shoulders, the grime, sweat and blood streaked across his face, tears in his jumpsuit—it’s been a rough day. When you ask if he’s okay, he merely grunts, prying off his mask to reveal pasty skin around tired eyes and tossing it at the table.

That kind of answer does nothing to assuage your worry; you rise from your chair, following him in his path to the bathroom. He almost doesn’t seem to notice or if he does, he doesn’t mention it. He moves on autopilot, peeling back his sweaty hood and fumbling with the zipper to his jumpsuit. His gloves keep slipping; his fingers don’t want to cooperate, so you cover them with your own.

“Jackie? Jackie,” you murmur, repeating it until his eyes finally lock onto you. “Let me help.”

He doesn’t resist as you draw the zipper down to expose his broad chest and shoulders. Every day out there tones his body more and more, makes it stronger…You can’t help but bite your lip instinctively as you survey his sculpted yet tender torso. Still, he’s gaining strength at what cost? It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s swaying slightly.

With a decisive breath, you hurry it along, keeping your eyes on his ankles for his dignity as you shimmy his jumpsuit down. His bare feet slap softly on the tiles as he steps out of his boots and you briefly move past him, turning the water on to let it warm up.

You can feel the trembling of his muscles under your hands as you guide him toward the shower. As soon as he makes it under the water, he lets his eyes close with a long sigh, arching his back and shoulders into it. Steam is building, the shower floor gleams and the atypical rhythm of Jackie’s breath has you hesitating to leave him alone. What if he were to slip?

After a moment of thought, you step into the shower with him as much as you dare, reaching out to steady him while doing your best not to get your clothing wet.

You don’t have long to think of that before Jackie acts, one hand grabbing at the small of your back, the other at your hip. You can’t help but squeak a little as he draws you further in, his grip as firm and heavy as an anchor. Instantly you’re enveloped by the smell of sweat and sandalwood that streaks down his skin toward the drain.

“Whoa, hey, what are you—?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day…I want you,” he breathes huskily, dipping his head to press his lips along your hairline.

Not as tired or drained as you thought, you realize, lifting your head to protest. “_You’re going to make us slip and fall, you’re going to get me drenched, you’re still filthy from work—_” you might say, but his mouth is on yours before you can get any of it out.

His tongue is long and warm and _hungry_ for a taste of yours, and it’s only a few seconds before water dripping from strands of his hair down your face advocates that you close your eyes and lean into it.

As the contact becomes more frenetic, his fingers work fast, dragging up the back of your shirt and at the band of your shorts as they start to soak. All you can do is let it happen, haphazardly kicking the underwear and shorts to the corner of the shower as they fall and lifting your arms so the shirt can go over before dragging your hands down his back. The scarred tissue there is rough under your fingertips until you reach his bottom, squeezing it briefly and making him chuckle lowly.

“Behave.” His hand slides down to grip one thigh and you hitch your leg up against him as he guides you back against the shower wall, cold where the steam hasn’t formed yet.

As he forces his frame flush on yours, you can feel the heat and hardness of him throbbing against your pelvis, making your breath catch, but you only have a moment to register it before he leans to trail lingering, openmouthed kisses down your throat. Lapping up the water that streams toward your collarbone, he revels in the sound of your gasps.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, chapped lips rough on your sensitive skin. “Tell me you want me inside you.”

Your thoughts are becoming too blurred to form smooth sentences. “P-Please,” you stutter breathlessly, riding your hips into him. “Please, please, please!”

The roar of the water does nothing to drown out his breaths of delight as he eases into your tight entrance, hands shifting to cradle your legs as you lift and wind them up around his waist. The position would be murder on your back if he wasn’t so strong; he’s a pillar that you cling to, tucking your head against him and whimpering in need as he thrusts.

Every so often he changes the angle and jolts you, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure down your spine. Even more arousing is the hum of power you can feel under his skin; the veins in his neck strain, pulse and glow silver as he grunts against your ear.

“You’re so good…Y-You’re so…incredible,” he hisses, his next words trailing off into a growl that shoots straight to your core.

His fingers grip you so tightly he may well leave bruises but you don’t care. Any marks he gives you are never meant to hurt; they’re like badges of honor, stakes of his claim. These same hands hold the entire city every single day and here they are wrapped around you. Who could have been luckier?

You scrape your teeth over his shoulder, leaving markings of your own, adoring how the muscles jump and flex under your mouth. You drag your fingers through his hair, down the nape of his neck, and as he grunts again you can feel yourself coming apart at the seams. He follows just a moment later, pouring into you with a long, loud groan that reverberates around the shower walls. His climaxes always seem so endless; you come a second time just from the sheer volume of his load.

It runs down your thighs as he slowly, slowly lets you back down onto weak, jittery legs, letting you lean into his chest for balance. His heart races thunderously under your ear.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, you lift your head to meet his gaze. Now he _really_ looks tired as he smiles back at you, and the water is becoming lukewarm. When you get out, a long nap in each other’s arms will be the best thing for both of you.


End file.
